


The Kids Aren't Alright

by coupe_de_foudre



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 19:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15202304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coupe_de_foudre/pseuds/coupe_de_foudre
Summary: Everything of Draco Malfoy's life had always been expected, always planned out already and guaranteed to happen. That was, until he stumbled into Harry Potter. Everything concerning Harry Potter was the complete opposite; unexpected and unplanned, yet that was what Draco found so endearing about it all. That and the fact that everything else in his life had been an unhappy mess whereas Harry Potter was a beam of golden light, hope and opportunity.Or the one where Harry Potter offhandedly tells Draco he wants to run away with him because life in London is getting to be too much with all the eyes of the wizarding world on him.





	The Kids Aren't Alright

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was based off of a post by 'bottseveryflavorbeans' on Tumblr and it's taken me 3 months to actually be happy with what I've written.
> 
> This is also the first thing I've posted on here, so...hi! I've posted on WattPad for almost 3 years now, but I just felt this fits better on this site. I dunno? Check out my work on WattPad, particularly if you ship Newtmas! My username is Hope-and-Believe.
> 
> Anyway, happy reading, snowflakes <3

Life as a former death eater was never going to be easy, Draco knew that. The slurs thrown his way, litter, pebbles and (on more than one occasion) hexes cast upon him – all of this Draco had expected of his immediate future after the war. 

After all, he did deserve it.

Granted, he served his time under house arrest. Which, quite frankly, was close to staying in a cell in Azkaban; the constant reminders, the night terrors, the tense and unforgiving fear that riddled his body every time he turned a corner in that wretched manor. He’d had more than long enough to think over his past, his decision and regrets.   
In all fairness, Draco had been of a young and impressionable age. Had the previous events of his life happened now, perhaps Draco would have found the courage to stand up for his own morals.

He certainly wouldn’t be trudging home, clothes sodden wet as a result of some snobby witch chucking her pumpkin juice over him just at the mere sight of him. The situation could be easily fixed with the flick of a wand, his clothes would be crisp and dry and not rubbing against his skin uncomfortably. Unfortunately, he’d made the mistake of showing his wand in public before and he didn’t fancy a repeat of what awful events had followed that.

As previously said, though, Draco had expected all of this. Yes, maybe his heart hadn’t been in any of the wrong that he had done. Yes, maybe his parents had been overbearing and forced him into most of the situations he’d been involved in, but Draco knew deep down that was only because they loved him and wanted what was best for him. In their opinion, being on the ‘more powerful’ side seemed the best way to protect him. Despite any of that, Draco knew that people looked at him and instantly all they saw was ‘Death Eater’, ‘Traitor’ and ‘Murderer’. 

And Draco was fine with that. Honestly, he was, because if someone wasn’t going to give him even a single minute to show who he was now, to show how he’s changed and how he isn’t the young boy he used to be, well then he doesn’t particularly want to spend a moment of his day with them.

There was, however, one thing of Draco’s future that he hadn’t anticipated. Not for the life of him, despite being a proud and cunning Slytherin through and through. Draco hadn’t foreseen one particular detail of his future.

Harry Potter. Harry bloody Potter.

 

He’d been there at his trial – stupid hair covering most of his face, but those same round glasses that he always wore peeking out under his unruly fringe. Draco hadn’t expected to see him outside so closely after the war; he figured he’d be holed up at the Weasley’s being cared for unconditionally. He certainly didn’t expect him to show up at his trial, of all trials to show up at. Let alone to testify in favour of him!

It turned out that not many other people expected that of him either. Not of Harry Potter – the Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived, The Saviour. The Hero standing up for the enemy, that just wasn’t heard of.

Until then…

Harry hadn’t paid anyone much thought at the trail, Draco noticed that much. He smiled when he should do, answered questions when needed, behaved as he was thought to behave – gracious and modest, two things that at the time were infuriating to Draco, who wanted nothing more than for Harry to just leave.

It wasn’t that he hated the boy, or rather man now, but the wave of immense guilt that flooded through Draco at the sight of Harry, beaten and exhausted but still trying to do good for the world. Draco couldn’t stand himself in that moment.

After the trail, when all of Draco’s past had been torn from him and displayed in bright lights across the wizarding world and leaving him feeling empty and disgusted, Harry made a beeline for him. Draco felt like a deer caught in the headlights. It hadn’t been bad enough that Harry had actually saved his life pretty much, though obviously Draco was quite dreading 3 years house arrest – more so than he was currently letting on. No, that wasn’t bad enough though as it seemed Harry was coming to brag in his face, much like when they were younger and trivial things had seemed to matter much more than they really did.

Harry stormed over to him, cutting through people trying to start a conversation with him, his piercing green eyes fixated on Draco with a look of such determination. Draco wanted to run. He knew that he couldn’t though, and so he stood his ground with his shoulders back and head held high as his father had taught him.

When he was stood barely three feet from Draco, Harry slowed to a halt. At this distance, Draco could see the slight tremor in Harry’s body, his hands gripping each other tightly to hide their shaking, legs wobbling ever-so-slightly. His green eyes flickered with something that Draco recognised as uncertainty, or was it worry?

“Draco…” Harry finally spoke, voice barely an octave above a whisper. Draco noticed him grip his fingers tighter. Dragging his gaze from Harry’s hands to his eyes, hidden away behind those glasses as usual, Draco took a breath before speaking.

“Thank you.” He said, and instantly a frown settled over Harry’s brow. Harry opened his mouth but Draco held up a finger, “No, please, let me finish. I-uh, I don’t know why you bothered to help me because I’m not worth it – especially not to you – but I want you to know that I’m more grateful than I could even begin to explain.” Draco sighed, eyes dropping to the ground as he let his composure falter. An uncomfortable heat was spreading across his usually snowy white cheeks and his throat felt dry and restricting. Draco swore to himself that he wouldn’t cry, though. Draco wasn’t one for tears.

“Draco,” Harry’s voice was comforting, “I didn’t need a reason for coming here today. I just did, because you were young and this – all of this,” he gestured around them, hand falling onto Draco’s shoulder, “it’s unfair. You deserved a fair trial, I don’t care what anybody else thinks. Even though you were a bit of an insufferable prick.”

Draco choked out a laugh at that last bit. There was no malice in Harry’s words, perhaps for the first time ever. Draco didn’t know what to do about that.

“How about,” Harry sighed quietly, seeing that Draco wasn’t about anytime soon, “we start again?”

That got Draco to look up; eyes wide in a way that Harry swore made him look quite like that innocent eleven-year-old boy from the robe shop, only now his cheeks were sunken and sallow.

“W-What?” Draco tripped over his words, mouth drier than before, “Why?”

Harry almost rolled his eyes, but he stopped himself, running a clammy hand through his nest of hair with a long sigh. Draco could sense that the man hadn’t slept well for days, weeks even. 

“Draco, we were stupid kids when we met. I knew nothing of the wizarding world, I barely knew anything of the muggle world! When you started making fun of my only friend I just decided that I didn’t like you. I was being petty and childish, though you weren’t any better, and we just fell into the position of enemies – or whatever we were. The war, well that didn’t help in the slightest. Wars change people, during and after. I’ll be honest, I had you pinned as a traitorous git from year 1. But now…” Harry’s arms fell down to his sides as he gestured to Draco, at a complete loss for words.

Draco didn’t say anything, not for a good minute or two at least. But then he cleared his throat and nodded, meeting Harry’s concerned eyes. Uncertainty and insecurity swirled in the depths of green before him, and Draco knew then that Harry was being serious. No more childish jokes and petty jinxes; this was a new beginning.

Silently, Draco held out a shaking pale hand. Harry’s eyes flicked between Draco’s face and his hand, smile forming on his bitten lips. 

“I’m Malfoy.” Draco finally says, voice steadier than it had been all day, “Draco Malfoy.”

Harry couldn’t help it, a wide smile spread across his face as he reached out and grasped Draco’s hand with his own. “Harry. Harry Potter.”

Draco’s chest was shot with a sharp pang of something unidentifiable, a small smile sneaking its way onto his thin lips as he saw the gleam in Harry’s eyes. He went to speak again, to thank Harry once more because, Merlin, how could he not? This man, who he had completely misunderstood all these years, was giving him a second chance – not only at life but at being a better person.

But Harry lifted his hand, pressing a finger to Draco’s lips as his smile faltered. “Don’t mention it.”

 

That had been the first unexpected thing in Draco’s life. It definitely wasn’t a bad thing, it was simply unplanned for and Draco had always grown up with strict rules and schedules. Something like that threw Draco off. 

The moment Draco returned to the shielded safety of his home, he whipped out his wand and cast a clean-up spell on his clothes to dry them and rid them of the awfully sticky and sweet-smelling pumpkin juice. Satisfied at last, he shrugged off his cloak and hung it amongst the others hanging by the entrance.

Draco had moved out of Malfoy Manor as soon as he could, happy to be rid of the dreadful memories that building now held captive. It hadn’t exactly been easy, buying a place when almost all of the wizarding world hated you and wished you dead, but he managed. Eventually.

This apartment was actually a muggle place, though it was still in London and within walking distance of Diagon Alley. His mother almost lost her mind when he told her, but she needed to understand that things were different now. Draco’s beliefs were different too, whether she agreed or not wasn’t his problem anymore; he was a grown man of twenty-two.

 

It had been all of two months of Draco settling down into a normal life when he ran into Harry Potter again. Late one Wednesday morning, Draco was enjoying a coffee, nose in a muggle book (Charles Dickens, if he remembers correctly) as he usually did when he had nothing to do. The coffee shop was located at the end of his street, always full of the regulars. Draco enjoyed visiting; muggles didn’t know anything about him and so he felt he could relax in the public for once.

Funny how largely his opinion on muggles had changed with three years confined to his own thoughts. Maybe Harry Potter had something to do with it too, but Draco would never admit to that.

The bell of the door rang, signalling a new customer. Draco didn’t bother lifting his head to see who it was, there was a 96% chance that he wouldn’t know them. Instead, he took another sip of his decaf Americano, expertly flipping the page of his book with one hand.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to begin reading again when the chair opposite was pulled out and somebody sat down, arms up on the table. A harsh clear of the throat got his attention.

Luckily Draco had placed his mug down before looking up, otherwise he would have spilt hot coffee all over himself.

Sat in the chair across the table from him was none other than Harry Potter himself, hair just as unruly as normal (if not more so because it appeared to have grown significantly in length), glasses askew and an expectant look on his face.

“Long time no see.” Harry said, unfolding his arms and propping his elbows up onto the table instead. Draco’s eye twitched, his mother’s voice reciting proper table manners ringing through his ears. He ignored it.

Draco hummed in agreement, carefully placing his beloved leather bookmark inside the book to mark his place. Finally he put the book down and crossed his arms in front of him, smiling freely at Harry. 

Harry seemed surprised at first, but he soon returned the smile. “How’ve you been?” he asked, and Draco knew all the questions that hid under the surface of the simplicity of that one question.

“I’ve been alright, actually. Had some self-reflection and enough peace and quiet for a lifetime too.” Draco laughed, the sound almost foreign to himself. “I moved out.” He gestured down the street and Harry’s eyes followed the motion.

Green eyes falling back onto grey ones, Harry spoke. “Grew your hair out too.”

Draco smiled; he’d almost forgotten about that. He’d just gotten used to it now. Harry was right, though, his hair was almost the length of his shoulders – sleek and blonde, much like his father’s. Not that you could quite notice the length right now since it was tied up with a black hair-tie.

“Yeah, I fancied a change. Well, that and I also didn’t trust my mother to cut it the past few years so I had no choice, really. I’ve grown to like it.” Draco explained, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at the cover of his book to avoid Harry’s thoughtful gaze.

“It suits you.”

Draco felt the rush of a blush on his cheeks. He felt the soft caress of a stray bit of hair falling loose from the hair-tie but he left it, the blond strip of hair curling round the contour of his face. Eventually, he looked back up to meet Harry’s gaze. “Thank you.” His voice was steady despite his nerves feeling uncontrollable, a Malfoy trait that he was proud to have.

“So,” Draco continued, tucking the loose strand of hair behind his ear. “What has the wondrous Harry Potter been up to in the past three years? I apologise, but I haven’t been reading much of the Daily Prophet. Never was quite my cup of tea, as one would say.” He laughed, waving his hand in Harry’s direction as a signal for him to speak.

Harry rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face so Draco knew he hadn’t taken offence to anything he’d said. “Not much, if I’m honest. I’ve been trying to keep as far away from the limelight as possible, but everyone – especially that wretched Rita Skeeter – seems intent on digging up even the most trivial things about my life. I just want to live a normal life, but I’m starting to think that may never happen.” Harry said, all within one breath, before sighing at the end as his head fell into his hands.

In that moment, Draco saw Harry – strip away the victory and good fortune thrown his way, Draco saw Harry for who he was. Who he is. Harry Potter, a man in his early twenties with the stress of the expectation of so many people (most of which were strangers to Harry). A man who just wanted to live in peace, after over 10 years of a bustling and hectic and dangerous childhood. 

Harry was just a man, broken at best but not unfixable, much like Draco was too. In that moment, Draco realised this.

“Stay with me.”

Harry lifted his head, hands dropping limply to the table top as he threw an inquisitive look at Draco. “W-What?” his voice was quiet, unsure.

Draco rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself. “Not like that, you idiot.” Harry’s face relaxed at that, though there was something lingering in his eyes. Disappointment? Perhaps, though why Harry was disappointed was beyond Draco. “I meant, come and stay with me. At mine. I promise I won’t murder you in your sleep.”

Harry studied him, head cocking to the side much like a confused puppy – something which Draco found adorable, though he would hex anybody that suggested such a thing. “Are you sure?” Draco nodded, lying through his teeth as the realisation of what he’s offering finally sunk in. He didn’t take the offer back though. “Why?”

Draco sighed, out of tiredness rather than annoyance. He picked up his mug of half-drunk coffee, the contents of which had cooled to room temperature by now. Taking a small sip, he thought over a suitable answer. Why had he offered Harry Potter a place to stay?

Shrugging, Draco settled with, “It’s the least I can do, really. After all, if it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be stuck in some dingy old cell far away from here.” The casual tone of Draco’s voice unsettled Harry.

“I didn’t do that for anything in return. I told you that on the day.” Harry fought back, stubborn as always.

“I know that, and it’s honestly one of the least selfish acts of kindness anyone has ever done for me. You’re miserable though, Harry. Even I can see that. You clearly don’t have a single place to stay that’s out of the watchful eye of everyone, and that’s why I’m offering you to stay at mine. It’s small, but it’s away from all of that.” Draco made a gesture with his hands, not wanting to say anything suspicious in a place surrounded by muggles.

Harry seemed to think Draco’s words over, chewing on the inside of his mouth. When he met Draco’s eyes at last, Draco felt a fleeting of hope.

“Alright, Malfoy, I guess I will.”

Draco smiled, though he wasn’t quite sure why. It felt like the right thing to do though. “Really?” Harry nodded, returning Draco’s enthusiastic smile.

“What do I have to lose?” Harry joked, “At least if you do murder me in my sleep, I won’t have to deal with all this stress anymore.”

Draco tutted, finishing the last of his coffee with the remnants of a smile still lingering over his lips.

 

That was almost 7 and a half months ago. Draco smiled at the fond memory.

It’s funny, really, looking back. Draco hardly knew Harry and yet he let him live with him, he let him in to his only safe place in London. Draco didn’t regret it though, not for one second.

In 7 and a half months, nobody had found out where Harry had vanished to. People spotted him sometimes, often out in Diagon Alley, and when that happened he’d make the front page of the Daily Prophet by the next day. But other than that, people didn’t see Harry. 

The Weasley’s knew, of course. That had been quite a shock, to say the least.

The first time that Harry brought Draco round for dinner at the Burrow had been a rather awkward experience. The tension in the room was thicker than the potato and carrot soup that Mrs Weasley had been cooking for the last four hours.

It was resolved eventually, after Draco almost broke down in tears in the kitchen apologising profusely to Mrs Weasley for all of his past behaviour. He was about to leave, saying that he’ll leave them all in peace, when she stopped him and engulfed him in a warm motherly hug before he had the chance to recognise what was happening. He didn’t fight back, simply melting in the embrace, tears silently falling down his face.

She smoothed his hair, patting his back and lulling him to a state of calm, and then she held him at arm’s length and met him with a steely glare. “If you ever hurt Harry, I swear to Merlin I will make you wish you had never stepped foot in this house.” A sentence which still sticks with Draco even to this day, but he’d swallowed and nodded in understanding. Then her gaze softened and she met him with a warm smile. “Welcome to the family, Draco.”

And he broke down all over again, ugly sobbing into her shoulder, grasping at her dress in a way he only ever did once in his life (after his first argument with his mother).

From that day on, whenever Harry visited the Weasley’s, you could guarantee that Draco would be by his side. They were just friends, but Harry saw no reason that Draco couldn’t come with him.

Dinners at the Burrow would be spent sharing small talk, laughing, and catching each other up on their lives. Draco and Harry rarely had anything interesting happen to them but they loved hearing about the happenings of everyone else’s work and family life. Ron and Hermione were planning to settle down, marry and have children – which overjoyed Mrs Weasley. George said business at the shop had never been better. Ginny had gotten a spot as Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies. 

After dinner, Mr Weasley would take Draco round the back and they’d talk about muggle inventions. Draco found the old cars that Mr Weasley enjoyed fixing up particularly intriguing and Mr Weasley couldn’t be happier to explain it all to Draco. Harry would help Mrs Weasley clear up, not noticing the knowing looks she’d send his way whenever he mentioned something Draco had said or done.

 

Their first kiss, another unexpected thing to happen, actually took place just outside the Burrow.

It had been another usual night there, although the atmosphere between Harry and Draco was shifted much differently compared to months previously. To begin with, they were friends and that was that. Nothing was ever said about anything else that might become of them, and so both men just ruled the possibility out. It wasn’t like neither of them had thought about it, because they certainly had. They’d already had the whole ‘coming out’ conversation not long after getting to know each other properly.

They were stepping out of the Burrow, the front door closing behind them. A warm light from inside was casted over their dark figures, and Draco looked over to Harry and stopped. Harry was positively glowing, a carefree smile resting on his soft features. 

Reaching out and grabbing Harry’s hand, clammy in his own, Draco felt his breath hitch. What was he doing?

Harry turned to him, confusion etched into his brow, but he didn’t pull his hand away. Draco took that as a good sign.

The light was dancing over Harry’s skin, the shadows it casted making his features sharper. They were stood only a foot apart, if Draco listened carefully enough he could hear Harry’s quiet breath slipping out from his parted lips.

Those lips.

Red from Harry’s nervous habit of always biting them. Plump, filled out, much unlike Draco’s own thin lips. Harry’s tongue suddenly darted out from between them, swiping over the bottom lip before disappearing again. Draco found himself watching the fast movement intently, breath shallow.

“Draco?”

Harry’s eyes had been on Draco, watching him with so many unspoken questions running through his head. Draco’s eyes shot away from Harry’s lips with a burning embarrassment.

“I-uh, I…”

Harry laughed, “Wow, Draco Malfoy. Speechless.”

Draco scoffed, lightly smacking Harry’s arm. “Shut up, Potter.” The name was used merely as a joke, and Harry knew that. Harry always knew.

“So,” Harry started and Draco froze, unsure as to what Harry was about to say. His tone was suggestive, something that Draco wasn’t used to – if you didn’t include the countless teasing they shared.

“So?”

Harry didn’t reply, arms lifting and fingers ghosting over Draco’s arm. Finally, it settled on Draco’s shoulder, nestling in the crook of his neck. His thumb ran circles over Draco’s skin, leaving behind goose bumps.

Draco was equally silent, losing himself in Harry’s eyes. Eyes always displayed so much, so many hidden emotions. Draco had learnt that when he was young.

Harry’s eyes were his favourite. The vibrant green, his favourite colour, always caught his attention first. Then he’d notice the shades of darker green, blended in until it seemed like looking above a forest – a mixture of greens of all shades. In the sunlight, Draco would notice small flecks of golden brown – or maybe it would be classed as hazel – either way it always made Draco smile; it reminded him of a golden snitch, barely noticeable and easily able to vanish from sight, but there when you know to look for it.

Harry spoke again and his voice was like an anchor, pulling Draco from the depths of green and back to the present. A knowing smirk sat on Harry’s lips.

“What?” Draco asked, voice raw as though he hadn’t spoken in months. 

“I said,” Harry exaggerated, as always, but the smirk never left his lips. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

The urge to roll his eyes was strong, but Draco resisted. Mainly because in that moment there were much more pressing matters. He didn’t even dignify Harry with a response, simply gripping his other hand and sharply tugging the younger, smug man closer. As soon as he was within reach, Draco tilted his head and pressed his lips to Harry’s.

Harry fell limp against Draco’s lips, eyes fluttering closed and smirk disintegrating into the kiss. Draco remained poised, perfectly able to hold Harry by the waist to stop him from falling. Harry’s arms were now draped over Draco’s shoulders, fingers lacing together behind his back.

It was explosive, the energy between them. The heat of their bodies contrasted the chill of the September air. The quiet of the night reflected the lull of silence shared between them, lips pressed together and eyes closed off to the world. In that moment, it was just them – nobody else.

The kiss was minimal, lips closed and short, but as Draco pulled away and rested his forehead against Harry’s he could feel the flood of emotions between them. He knew that wasn’t going to be their last kiss. 

But as far as first kisses go, that one was by far better than perfection. Under the stars, just the two of them (well, and Mrs Weasley peeking through the closed curtains of the house, but she’d never tell them). It’s one of Draco’s favourite memories.

 

“Merlin’s beard, not again!” 

Draco chuckled quietly to himself as he heard the familiar voice of a raven-haired man travel down the hallway of their shared apartment – the same one he’s lived in since he left the manor. The same one he invited Harry to stay at 7 and a half months ago. 

Walking to where the voice came from, Draco leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed loosely in front of his chest, fringe falling over his face as he looked into the room. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight before him. Harry was covered in flour, arms held out in front of him, sleeves blasted in white. A mixer sat on the counter, still stirring mindlessly despite the bowl no longer having any contents worth mixing. Sugar, egg shells and banana peels were strewn across the countertop. It was all quite a mess.  
Had it not been Harry responsible for it, and had he not looked so darn adorable covered in flour with a scowl on his face, pouting miserably, Draco would have been infuriated. As it stood, Harry could get away with anything and Draco wouldn’t find it half as annoying.

“What in Merlin’s name have you done? In fact, wait, what were you even trying to do? If your goal was make a mess of my lovey clean kitchen, you’ve succeeded.” Draco teased, stepping into the small kitchen and making his presence known.

Harry’s head shot up, shock in his eyes. “You weren’t gone long!”

Draco tutted, leaning against a clean spot of the counter, his eyes not leaving Harry’s. “Don’t try to change the subject.” A smirk began to creep onto his thin lips as he saw the inward argument currently taking place in Harry’s mind. Eventually, Harry just threw his arms up in the air and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I tried to bake something! Turns out I’m not that talented.” The obvious frustration on his face reminded Draco of a young child.

Pushing himself up from the counter, Draco stood in front of Harry. He placed his hands on Harr’s shoulders and met his fed-up stare. “We already knew that you were awful at any type of cooking or baking, that’s why I do it all.” Draco laughed, trying to bring a smile onto Harry’s face. He succeeded. “What brought this on?” He gestured around them.

Harry avoided his gaze for a moment, eyes falling on the mess that surrounded them. Then, without warning, he let out a shaky breath and fell against Draco’s chest, his arms slipping around Draco’s waist and face burrowing into his shirt. Draco paused, taking a steady breath before bringing his hand up to run his long fingers through Harry’s hair (dusted in flour). They stayed like that, Harry listening to Draco’s comforting heartbeat and holding back silent tears as Draco stroked his back and murmured reassuring thoughts.

When Harry finally pulled away, tear stains rested on his cheeks and there was a fresh red mark from where his glasses had dug into his face. Draco sighed, carefully removing Harry’s glasses and folding them before placing them on the counter behind him. He turned back around, cupping Harry’s face with his hands and wiped away any fresh tears with the tip of his thumb. Harry’s eyes slid shut as Draco leant forward and placed a warm kiss to his forehead, ignoring the scar; that wasn’t important anymore.

“I-” Harry started, choking on his words. Draco shushed him, running his hands over Harry’s arms and not looking away until Harry felt composed enough to speak without breaking down completely. “I don’t know how you do it.” Harry finally let spill, shoulders slumping and a look of defeat on his face. That know-it-all Gryffindor spirit of his was crumpling under the pressures of the world around him but he couldn’t let anybody see. 

Draco was an exception.

“Do what?” Draco asked, not wanting to say too much for fear of messing the moment up.

Harry leant forward, head dipped so that he could rest his forehead on Draco’s shoulder. “Just, put up with everything. Everyone’s expectations and judgements.”

Draco scoffed, “People expect nothing of me.”

Harry shook his head gently, and Draco could practically hear him roll his eyes. “You know what I mean though.” Draco nodded. “I just, I wish we could just run away. Away from London, away from the wizarding world, just…away.”

Draco’s hand stopped midway through tugging at Harry’s hair and he listened as Harry suddenly stood up straight. “I-I’m being stupid, obviously, it just gets too much sometimes, you know?” Harry added a nervous laugh at the end, trying to play off the seriousness of the conversation. Draco hummed in agreement, smiling softly at Harry, but his mind was already running double speed forming up a solution.

When Harry made an awkward coughing sound, Draco snapped back into the present situation. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

Harry guffawed, a teasing smile on his face now. “What was that like?”

“Oh shut up!” Draco said, playing along with the pretence that Harry was trying to build up again that everything was fine. He did this, often. A fair few times, Harry would seem to crash down to breaking point only to pull himself back up and throw on a fake smile. Draco hated that about him; he wished he could see Harry truly happy.

The sound of the mixer behind them could still be heard, and Draco quickly swivelled round to switch it off. The kitchen fell into a blissful quiet, giving Draco the concentration to take a proper look at the mess around them.

“Were you trying to make banana bread?” he asked, a confused frown on his face as he held up a browning banana peel, wrinkling his nose and pushing it away. Harry’s sheepish look before hurrying to grab a cloth told Draco all he needed to know. With a small laugh, he threw away the rubbish and joined Harry in wiping down the counter. They could use magic; the room would be cleaned spotless within seconds, but the two of them found it rather rewarding to clean up without the use of a spell. A younger Draco would have scoffed and said cleaning up was the work of house elves, but dancing around the room with Harry, mop in hand, he knew that the younger him was clearly missing out on something.

 

It took a day and 3 hours for Draco to get his plan in action. He spent the night following the kitchen mess Harry had created thinking about what Harry had mentioned. They could do it. What was there actually stopping them? With that thought, he began plotting.

By noon the next day, Draco had shown up at the Burrow with a nervous smile (and some freshly baked banana bread for Mrs Weasley). Mrs Weasley had opened the door, gushing as she saw him and engulfing him in a warm hug before he had the chance to even say “Hello.”. Draco didn’t mind, he was quite used to it by now, simply placing the banana bread on the end table to their side and wrapping his arms around Mrs Weasley’s middle. She smelt of cinnamon and baked goods.

“Draco, dear, what brings you here?” she asked, grabbing the loaf of banana bread and leading him into the kitchen, where she started up the kettle.

Draco placed himself at the table, watching her bustle around the kitchen like a pro. “I have a favour to ask of Arthur, if that’s alright?” 

“Of course it is, dear! I’ll go get him, shall I? he’s just round back working on that old car of his.”

Draco stood, holding his hand out to her with a smile. “Oh no, that’s quite alright. I’ll join him; I wouldn’t want to interrupt him from his work.” Thanking her for the tea that she handed to him, Draco left the kitchen and walked outside to the back of the Burrow where he knew Mr Weasley kept a few old and broken muggle cars that he enjoyed to tinker with.

“Draco, my boy! What can I do for you?” Mr Weasley asked, smiling over at Draco as he joined him by the front of Mr Weasley’s favourite car – it was a pale yellow, the roof had a huge dent in it but other than that it seemed in good condition, though that may be down to the work done by Mr Weasley.

Draco sighed, taking a sip of the tea in his hands before explaining his plan to Mr Weasley.

 

Five hours later, as the sun was beginning to set in the sky – leaving behind a dusting of pink and orange – Draco was knocking on the front door of his and Harry’s apartment. His heart was pounding and his hands were unusually clammy but he reassured himself that there was absolutely nothing to be worried about. Why would there be?

Harry opened the door a moment after he knocked, hair sticking up messily like it always did when he fell asleep on the couch, and glasses askew. He frowned, seeing Draco stood in front of him. 

“You know there’s a spell to unlock doors if you’ve forgotten your key, right?”

Draco rolled his eyes, nerves settling by the minute. “Shut up, how dense do you think I am?” Harry went to open his mouth, eyes lit up and a smirk on his lips. “No, stop, don’t answer that.” Draco suddenly chipped in, holding a finger to Harry’s mouth. Harry pouted, nipping Draco’s finger to get him to move it, smirk soon returning to his lips as Draco sent him a glare.

Harry was about to speak again when his eyes fell behind Draco, widening in surprise. Draco smiled to himself, watching as Harry flicked his green eyes between him and the then to the street behind him. 

“W-What’s this?” Harry stuttered, pointing out to the car.

Draco turned around and followed his gaze to the rusty old car parked behind him. It wasn’t anything special, that’s for certain; Mr Weasley said he found it in a muggle scrapyard. One tyre had been missing and the seats had been stripped of their covers. The paint had been chipped awfully too. But Mr Weasley had worked his magic on it – quite literally – and it had scrubbed up pretty well; all four black tyres in place, ocean blue paint coated on smoothly and beige leather lining the seats inside. Granted, it wasn’t anything perfect, but it was more than suitable.

“You said you wanted to run away.” Draco explained, taking a step closer to the car as he turned to look back at a bewildered Harry. Opening the passenger door, Draco smiled at Harry. Draco didn’t remember feeling so carefree and excited of a possible unknown future and it was clearly contagious as a wide smile soon spread over Harry’s face, washing away any hesitance. “Let’s run away then.” 

Harry laughed, head thrown back slightly as he squinted his eyes. Draco loved seeing him laugh like that. “You’re unbelievable.” Harry said, shaking his head, but the smile would leave his face. 

“I know,” Draco agreed, holding out a hand that Harry took, bringing him closer. “Are you ready?” 

Harry giggled, leaning into Draco as he nodded. Draco grinned back, entranced by Harry’s beaming eyes which were glistening under the evening light with such intensity that Draco never wanted to look away from them. He had to though, if they were really going to do this. 

Anyway, Draco would have the rest of his life to look into Harry’s eyes.

“Wait, don’t we need to pack?” Harry asked.

Draco shook his head, gesturing into the back seat of the car, which Harry only just noticed was full of packed suitcases and food and drinks. 

“We’re really going to do this?” Harry questioned, looking up at Draco’s face. He looked more peaceful than he ever remembered seeing him.

“We are.” Draco whispered, leaning down to capture Harry’s lips with his in a sweet kiss under the rising stars. Harry hummed into the kiss, pressing further into Draco so that they were leaning against the side of the car, Draco’s hand gripping the back of Harry’s thighs as Harry had his fingers lost in Draco’s ever-growing hair. Draco’s tongue slipped into Harry’s mouth, pulling him impossibly closer as Harry moaned into the kiss. He could taste the remnants of sugary tea on his tongue and it only caused Draco to delve in deeper, blissfully losing himself in the moment.

When they eventually pulled away, lips swollen and eyes glazed, it had grown increasingly colder. Harry shivered, still stood in only his pyjama bottoms (on another occasion Draco would have teased him for not even being dressed when it was practically night again). Instead, Draco shrugged off his own jacket and wrapped it over Harry’s bare shoulders. Harry smiled up at him thankfully.

With a pat on the shoulder, Draco left Harry to go and lock up their apartment. They didn’t own anything of much value, surprisingly, and the things that were important were already packed in the back of the car. 

Harry was already sat in the passenger seat when Draco returned, holding Draco’s jacket close to his body and breathing in its scent. Draco slipped into the driver’s seat, buckling himself in and starting up the engine just as Mr Weasley had taught him to do. 

“Where to?” Draco asked, turning to look at Harry as he pulled out into the empty road.

Harry thought for a moment, looking out of the window to his left before facing Draco with a smile, excitement and nervousness radiating off of him. “Let’s just drive until we run out of gas.”

Draco chuckled, eyes focusing on the road once again. Neither of them looked back as the car turned the corner at the end of the street, keeping their focuses on what was in front of them. They drove and drove, as night turned to day and back again, but they never looked back.

 

Life as a former death eater was never going to be easy, Draco knew that. Life in a place where nobody else knew his past, with the love of his life and endless possibilities, that wasn’t so hard, Draco realised. Everything of his life had always been expected, always planned out already and guaranteed to happen. That was, until he stumbled into Harry Potter. Everything concerning Harry Potter was the complete opposite; unexpected and unplanned, yet that was what Draco found so endearing about it all. That and the fact that everything else in his life had been an unhappy mess whereas Harry Potter was a beam of golden light, hope and opportunity. 

Harry Potter was unlike anything else Draco Malfoy had experienced, and maybe that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.


End file.
